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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29764962">Everybody Talks [ON HOLD]</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrphanedClown/pseuds/OrphanedClown'>OrphanedClown</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Strangers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:21:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,771</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29764962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrphanedClown/pseuds/OrphanedClown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dream is unintentionally popular. He has his own small group of friends and prefers to stay as blended into the crowd as possible. </p><p>The smaller boy from the nurses office makes him feel some kinds of different ways.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Panda Bandaid</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Dreamnap for the starved. Eat up. &lt;3</p><p>(Story title/plot line inspired by Everybody Talks - Neon Trees. Chapter uploads are spontaneous and unplanned. Characters correlate only to their personas, not the irl people.)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dream makes a new friend. Needless to say, he's extremely happy about it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh god. I’ve been trying to write stories for weeks now but I’m struggling sm - let’s just hope and pray this is the one.</p><p>Crying in the club.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He didn’t know what he’d done wrong - considering the fact that he’d never known of this other guys existence until today - but, apparently, for some reason, they were out to get him, and they made sure to make the most out of it. Sure, it wasn’t new for people to target him; making a fixed decision of his popular boy persona before actually getting to know him, glaring holes into the back of his head - but no one had ever <em>punched </em>him before. </p><p>So here he was now; ice pack pressed firmly against his cheek bone as the blood dripped from his swollen lip, leaning lazily against the back-board of the small, creaky chair as he scanned the white plain of the ceiling, hoping for anything remotely close to interesting and faltering as he found none. He’d been told to wait, hold out until the nurse got back with more bandaids to patch up the bust of his lip, but she’d currently been gone for over twenty-minutes, and the blood wasn’t getting any dryer. (Not to mention the fact that he had the littlest of patience. Dream couldn’t sit still for long without inheriting the urge to get up and throw himself about. It was almost too much to handle sometimes, this being one of those sometimes.)</p><p>Dream figured it’d be fine - going in on his own - he wasn’t incapable of finding what he needed and getting the hell out of there before any administrators caught up to him. Normally he would be terrified of discarding the rules so recklessly, like the shameful goody-goody he was, but it wasn’t exactly too high on his current list of priorities for him to care, especially when he was nowhere near off the hook yet.</p><p>With an exhausted sigh, Dream pushed up from his place, stuttering slightly on his feet as he frustratedly pushed open the door with a lean of his body weight, catching himself with a tight grip on the corner of the chapping wall.</p><p>The first thing he noticed was the smell; antibiotics and baby powder - an extremely strange and unexpected scent for a college - but as strange as it was, it was also calming and slightly nostalgic. It reminded him of when he would stop by his mother’s office on the way home from middle school, it would be clouded with baby powder - his little sister bouncing in her crib as she threw her toys against the wooden bars, giggling and clapping her tiny hands as they bounced back to her - and he would snatch as many sweets from from the bowl that sat in front of her computer as possible, waving his lanky arms as a departure while running back into the crowded hallways of the workplace. Lots of different stares followed his movements, watching with distaste as he swiftly weaved through groups and bounded back into the empty streets. He would hand out his friends designated flavors from the spontaneous pick of sweets, recalling the excitement every time Quackity ended up with extras and shoved it in their faces. George could only snarl and pop the orange squish into his mouth, whilst Quackity would continue to laugh and gloat in his face; clear provocation, which George numbly bought into, and it would always end in a fight - always playful, full of giggles and gentle hits - but by the time they were finished everyone was in hysterics, and Dream would have to consistently gasp just to gain a little bit of air.</p><p>The next thing he noticed was the noise; the dim buzz of the air con satisfying his need for a background noise. Silence was his worst nightmare. George always complained about how it annoyed him, the man couldn’t get a crumb of silence no matter how hard he tried, and it would only be made worse if Tommy and Tubbo had come round to cause chaos with Drista. Tommy would scream and swear whenever Drista challenged him to some sort of duel, and you didn’t even need to hear it to know Tubbo was groaning as loud as he could into the suffocation of his hands. Tho it was troublesome, it was also relieving. Voices and sounds made to reassure Dream that everything wasn’t dark and alone, that he wasn’t singled out in an empty space with no one and nothing, to which he showed his appreciation to by making the kids any kind of smoothies they wanted. </p><p>The finale thing was the boy. The quiet boy that kicked his legs over the edge of the bed (<em>Un</em><em>comfortable</em> bed, in Dreams opinion.) and smiled widely at the phone in his hand. Dream could hear the voice coming through the headphones, and his attention perked as he recognised it to be Philza; internet sensation and social media influencer, who also just happened to be a huge inspiration to Dream - <em>not to be a fanboy or anything</em>.</p><p>It was only after the intense stare that loomed over the other that they finally peered upwards, gaze quickly shifting as they assumably paused what had dragged on their attention for so long, and suddenly Dream felt embarrassed. He’d just stared at this complete stranger for minutes without realising it, and he’d probably freaked them out. Obviously, it wasn't at all intentional, Dream wasn’t some creep, and he would be sure to apologise for it, but he'd never met anyone else who seemed to have a shared interest with him (Other than his own friends, of course.) so he'd been infatuated immediately.</p><p>“Sorry, Uh,” <em>Don’t stutter, idiot.</em>“I’m just looking for a bandaid, or something? My lip is bleeding and kinda swollen, so,” </p><p>Dream was worried for a second. The other didn’t say anything for a while, but relief seemed to wash over him when they smiled and put their belongings aside, shuffling from their space on the bed and making their way over to the cabinets that stood on the other end of the room.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure they're out of bandaids.” His voice wasn’t too high or too low, a perfect pitch with a fragile tone. “Lucky for you, though,” He dug deeper into the drawer, all the way to the bottom, before pulling out a small transparent bag and throwing it in the air, catching it swiftly as he spun on his feet. “I keep extras, just for myself.”</p><p>Dream chuckled, the boy entertaining as well as strangely welcoming, and for some reason Dream didn’t feel inclined to shut his trap and pipe down - the need to impress and please everyone a strange trait he had picked up over the years. Instead, he felt as though he could speak like he would normally do, if he was with his friends. </p><p>This was a complete stranger; someone he had never talked to nor seen in his entire life, someone he met two seconds ago, yet he felt the most comfortable he's been able to feel in a long time. Maybe it was his aura, or his friendly smile or his spring of confidence, but Dream felt welcomed. He didn’t feel welcomed because he was popular; all the attention, star of the football games, nicest kid and the biggest pushover ever - it was because, for once, someone spoke to him like he didn’t exist for their own clout. </p><p>
  <em>His heart started to beat a bit faster.</em>
</p><p>He went for it. “Just for yourself, huh? I must be pretty special to be sharing your secret stash with you.” Dream smirked, folding his arms as he leaned against the cold wall, executing the confidence he didn’t really have.</p><p>”You must be.” The other mirrored the expression, fiddling with the bag as he pulled out a small, well-fitting bandaid. “So, how’d this happen? I never expected goody-two-shoes, popular boy, football jockey, Dream Gold to get his lights punched out. You aren’t exactly known to go around starting fights, unless that’s some kind of secret identity.” He laughed, making his way over as he peeled the seal off the bandaid. </p><p>Dreams heart immediately did a flip, the cocky expression on his face twisting into a worried grimace. “You know my name?” He fiddled with the ends of his sleeves nervously, rubbing his fingers roughly against the dents in the fabric. </p><p>“Of course I do,” The smaller grinned, looking up as he stopped in place. “Almost everyone knows who you are, it’s kind of hard not to when the cheer team are constantly talking about who’s getting you into bed first.” </p><p>His face must’ve gone red, because the raven started to laugh, and Dream suddenly felt ten-times warmer than he had beforehand. Of course, he knew all of this - he knew the girls placed bets on who would get him first, he knew the guys argued over who could weave their way onto his good side - but hearing someone say it aloud was so much worse. <em>So much worse.</em></p><p>”No need to look so embarrassed. Actually, you should feel cool; like a big boy with his pants on right.” A strange analogy, but it was funny and seemed to instantly lighten the mood. It made Dream feel better, at least. “Actually, you’re the talk of the town, and I don’t mean that figuratively.” </p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>The other laughed, shaking his head and standing on the tip of his toes as he reached up to Dreams lips, bandaid resting between his fingers and ready to stick. “Hold still.”</p><p>Dream did as he was told, leaning still against the wall as he watched closely at the fingers that grazed his lips. He felt the soft pressure and the tiny sting when the bandaid pressed against his cut, could feel the body so close to his they almost pressed together, and he especially felt the heat switch with the cold as the other pulled away. It was a bit disappointing, the close-contact oddly satisfying, but Dream didn't complain.</p><p>The recollection of soft fingers sliding across his lips kept a kind ting that made Dreams heart melt painfully - but for the sake of his pride and dignity, he decided to keep it to himself - tho the feeling never seemed to subside.</p><p>"So, what's this about me being the literal <em>'talk of the town'</em>?... Uhm," Dream gestured his hand, face turning with confusion as he awaited an answer.</p><p>"Sapnap, but you can call me Sap for the sake of being newlyweds." Sapnap grinned, cheeks tinted with pink. "Unless you have someone better to make friends with?"</p><p>Dream didn't need a mirror to know his face had gone bright red; the radiating heat spoke for itself, and he could feel it leave his cheeks.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Friends?</em></strong>
</p><p>He smiled widely, no strength or will to stop it, and he was glad he didn't, because Sapnap smiled back with the exact same enthusiasm. Surprisingly, nothing more needed to be said, and the conversation had continued without a verbal answer to the others question - and it felt good, because neither of them were required to answer with words - it was like they already knew; already <em>had </em>known, from when the conversation started to when it ended.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>They were friends?</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>They were friends.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Sapnap smiled, turning on his heels as he made his way back to the edge of the bed, "And to answer your question:" boosting himself up and onto the firm padding, he pat the space next to him, urging Dream to follow suit. "You're the star of all the school football games. You start the fight, and end it with a win. You practically carry your team, and everyone who's ever been to a game knows it, whether they like to admit it or not."</p><p>Dream, hoisting himself up and sitting right-side, only stared at the way his hands fumbled in each others grasp, how his fingers stumbled and rolled over each other in an attempt to relieve some of the anxiety he felt.</p><p>"Yeah, it's," He was nervous, the words he needed not there to be spoken. “It's pretty creepy." He let out a visible cringe. The reminder that grown adults admired him as much as his younger sister did made him sick with discomfort.</p><p>Sapnap let out a loud laugh, grabbing hold of Dreams sleeve and tugging tightly as he toppled over his knees. He was clearly amused, and as much as Dream wasn't, the sight of Saps smile and the sound of his laughter rung through Dreams ears and filled him with enjoyment. It was nice, it was reassuring, and most of all it was amazing. Dream could sit in the moment forever, because he felt like he’d never had it before, and the thought of letting it go physically stung.</p><p>Unfortunately, his dread was horribly abused as the deafening ring of the bell ceased the laughter, the fun and the games all together. It indicated the end to an awful, painful, excruciating, amazing, awesome, thrilling day, one he hadn’t experienced in months, and Dream was nothing but reluctant to let it go so easily.</p><p>Sapnap shifted off of the bed, grabbing his backpack with one hand and slinging it over his shoulder, using the other hand to reach for his phone and type frantically against the low glow of the screen. Suddenly, Dream was faced with a contacts list, the <em>input new number</em> written across the empty search bar catching his eyes, and the happiness he had lost mere seconds ago started to flicker around his chest again.</p><p>"Your number; you can put it in." </p><p>Dream nodded, trying his best to hide his excitement as he typed the numbers frantically into the bar and clicked <em>add</em>, watching as his contact number listed into the crowd of others.</p><p>"Cool!" Sapnap beamed, taking back his phone and stuffing it into his pocket, speeding over to the door. "My friend will kill me if I keep him waiting, sorry. Thanks for a nice time Dream!"</p><p>And then he was gone, the only thing in his wake the swinging of the door.</p><p>"Wow."</p><p>Dream simpered, voice but a low whisper.</p><p>"My heart is beating so fast."</p><p>And it was true.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>CHAPTER 1 FINISHED, POG!!</p><p>This took a few days but I’m quite happy with how this turned out. I did re-read and edit it multiple times, so if there’s any mistakes.<br/>I’m. sorry.&lt;\3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Late Nights Spent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After hours of waiting, Dream finally gets that text back.</p><p>Time is spent but not wasted, and the next day comes in what feels like mere minutes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for all the nice comments, they made me extremely happy..&lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“-and he had these big brown eyes that sparkled with excitement - and whenever he smiled his cheeks would turn pink!” </p><p>That’s how it’d gone the entire way home. Dream had been ranting about ‘<em>Sapnap</em>’, whoever that was, for what felt like years now - and whilst Quackity was complaining about his feet hurting - George was resisting the urge cut his own ears off. </p><p>“-and then he said we were <em><strong>friends</strong></em>! <em><strong>Friends</strong></em>, George!” Dream grinned a thousand grins, cheeks red and whole with a new-found sense of adoration. </p><p>George, head pounding and eyes sore, rubbed at his temples with a mumble to his voice. “Yes, Dream, that’s very nice - but you talked for, like, twenty minutes - I’m not sure that makes you <em><strong>friends</strong></em>.” He rubbed his forehead, exhaustion written in his features, before moving to rest his palm on Dreams significantly larger frame. "Cute bandaid by the way. Pandas; adorable."</p><p>Dreams bright demeanor quickly dropped, and suddenly he’d hit rock bottom. As well as feeling completely reverted, he also felt embarrassed; going on a tangent about a boy who George claimed to not even be a <em>‘real friend</em>’, the extra comment about his bandaid not particularly helpful either. Yes, he had a small feeling that it was true, but hearing it from his best friends hurt more than trying to come to terms with it on his own. At one point he'd even managed to convince himself it was just paranoia - that it was just his anxiety acting up and he was lying to himself the entire time.</p><p>He just wanted to relish in the moment.</p><p>”Yeah,” Quackity chimed in, clacking his lips together as he chewed the sour gummy’s that tucked against the inside of his cheek. “Sorry dude, but you really have to know someone before jumping into a friendship like that.” </p><p>“Says you!” The taller glared, running slightly forward and turning on the ball of his feet, facing the two of his friends as he walked. “Nina complimented your shoes <em>once </em>and suddenly she was the love of your life!”</p><p>”Ay, man! That’s not what I said!” Quackity exclaimed, pointing a judgmental finger towards his friends nose.</p><p>Dream grimaced, slapping his finger away provocatively. "Then what <em>did </em>you say, Q?” He smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. At one point he almost tripped over his own feet - walking backwards not being too easy - but covered it up with a jump in his step. </p><p>“I <em>said</em>,” He scoffed, retracting his finger to interlock his hands behind his head. “‘I want to marry her’.”</p><p>”False.” George piped up, gaze still stuck to the words on his phone.</p><p>”You said, and I quote! ‘I don’t wanna freak you guys out, but I just got married’-”</p><p>”Did not!”</p><p>”Did too!”</p><p>”<em>Did not</em>!”</p><p>”<em>Did too</em>!”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The evening passed slowly and painfully. Dream would check his phone every five seconds as he tried to focus on completing upcoming assignments, even putting his phone on ringer during dinner to make sure he wouldn’t miss when the text finally rolled around; he was fully well prepared to leave the table to answer what he awaited so eagerly - and even with a bolloking he was sure he wouldn’t come to regret it.</p><p>Now, staring up at the black of his ceiling, the night passing leisurely by, the only thing Dream could feel was the sweat trailing his forehead and the rapid beat of his heart. Night time was always the worst. He hated the quiet - no fan nor air-con to render the silence - and as he stared at the shadow of his ceiling, he couldn't help but lose control of his eyesight. He could feel the way his room twirled through his eyes; a pattern of cheap swirls and hypnotizing patterns being all he could see. The feeling of slowly losing hold of himself as he floated away, to a dark and hushed place that he would forever fear of going, was the only thing that kept his eyes open.</p><p>His mind wandered, thoughts gathering into groups in the corners of his mind. As he picked them apart, somewhere during the unconscious of his thinking, he'd come to the conclusion that it was all a stupid prank - that he hadn’t actually found someone that enjoyed his company, wanted to get to know him and <em>actually </em>be his friend. Maybe George was right, and that was the worst part; Dream <em>hated </em>when George was right; he’d gloat and spin on his toes like a happy little girl, and it was one of the only times Dream would ever sneak as much as a glance of what George's self-absorption looked like. (News flash: it was so irritating that Dream would have to resist the urge to smack him every time.)</p><p>Suddenly, a ding, accompanied by a flash of light, right from across the room.</p><p>Dream might as well have already fallen over from the amount of times his feet got trapped in the entanglement of his bed sheets - the adrenaline he felt to get to his phone was amazing, and he didn’t think he’d ever experience it again. He fell against his drawers, saving himself with a strong grip on the ledge and ignoring the loud <strong>bang </strong>that followed after it. Snatching his phone, he searched the screen frantically, anticipation weighing itself heavy on his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Unknown</strong> </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It had to be him. If it wasn’t, Dream was prepared to throw his phone against the wall, scream into the suffocating plush of his pillow and wait until he ran out of air.</p><p>He’s been waiting for this all evening, all night - <em>just please be him</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>AAAAYY!!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It was definitely him. There was no doubt about it. </p><p>The smile on Dreams face was huge, full of excitement, and maybe if there was a mirror to look into he would've cringed and smacked himself silly.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>I was starting to think you ditched me :,(</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Aww I would never ;))</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>You’re so clingy </strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em>Clingy</em>.</p><p>Was he really being clingy? George called him clingy, Quackity called him clingy, but that was because they were friends, and banter was their love language. It was true that he’d only ever spoken to Sapnap once - this being their second interaction - but even after all the anxiety and procrastination, Dream had never thought of himself to be clingy. Maybe he was a tiny bit excited, which could be mistaken for a slight fixation, but he definitely wasn’t <em>clingy</em>.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>I’m not clingy &gt;:(</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>It’s okay to say you are</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I won’t judge &lt;3</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A heart.</p><p>It was a joke - he knew this, it was to add to the irony - he knew it was obviously a joke. </p><p>So why did it make his heart race?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>I’m not &lt;3</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>He sent one back. <br/>
<br/>
Would Sap think he was weird? Creepy? Yes, Dream wasn’t too experienced in the 'casual-talk’ department, but he was pretty sure sending hearts was another form of indication; an indication to something very different and intimate.<br/>
<br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Whatever you say :)</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Oh hold up I NEED to show you something</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>A link?</em>
</p><p>The sound of screams and a loud <em>“FUCK” </em>was enough to make Dream wheeze, watching carefully through squinted eyes as Philza’s character hit the ground. He whined, whispering to himself as he searched for another clip, copying the link and sending it straight to Sapnap.</p><p>And that’s the way it went, all night, until sunrise.</p><p>Both the two would exchange links to different videos and clips they thought were funny, and for once, Dream was having fun. He could honestly say he felt like someone understood him the way he understood himself - it wasn’t everyday he was able to find people to cooperate with on a level playing field - and it was exhilarating to finally talk to someone who understood the way he mused. </p><p>
  <em>6:47 AM</em>
</p><p>It felt like five minutes, but the two had been talking for hours on end. It was only now, thirteen minutes until his alarm was set to go off, that Dream realized he hadn’t slept at all. He hadn’t even realized that his door was open, the sound of his mother beckoning him out of his room going completely unnoticed.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Holy shit</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Holy fuck</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>It’s 7 am</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>W</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>DUDE</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>My moms gonna kill me</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>I’m so fucked </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>GTG TTYL &lt;3</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Another heart.</p><p>Was it still a joke?</p><p>Surely it was.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Same ttyl<br/>
</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Should he?</p><p>
  <em>Fuck it.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>&lt;3</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>"To be fair, how was I supposed to know it was seven AM?" Dream rolled his tired eyes, squeezing the last bit of juice into his mouth before crushing the empty carton between his fist. "I forgot my blinds were shut; I had no other way of telling it was morning!”</p><p>Scrunching his brows, George peered upwards, "So the red light illuminating from your bedside table didn't catch your attention at all?” bringing his gaze back down to watch the movement of his feet.</p><p>"Yeah!" Quackity unhelpfully chimed in, skipping forward as he faced to look at his friend. "Maybe if you spent less time with your head in your ass you could actually have some self-awareness!" He laughed, even earning a small smirk - maybe even a quiet chuckle - from George.</p><p>Dream wasn't even slightly amused.</p><p>His posture slumped, tossing the crumpled up carton into a nearby bin before shoving his hands into his pockets. "Whatever, at least I have friends other than you two. You're both dickheads anyway." </p><p>"Hey! I have other friends," Q elbowed, ducking down as Dream playfully swung his arm to hit back. "You just haven't met them yet. Maybe one day you can, if I'm feeling nice."</p><p>"I severely doubt everything that has just come out of your mouth." George spoke up, finally, closing his phone and tucking it deep into his pocket. "And even if it is legit, they're most likely just be some stoners that you found on the side of the road.”</p><p>"Not disagreeing," The other gestured his hand, tugging his beanie further down. “But I didn’t find them on the side of the road - they're <em>wealthy - </em>they have that big money! And I can prove it.”</p><p>"Prove their existence first, then we can talk money."</p><p>"Bet!" He jumped, clicking his heels together mid-air and landing with a sprint in his step.</p><p>Dream smiled, letting out a lose breath through his nose, cheeks churned a happy red. He averted his gaze down to his shoes, watching the colors move in a blurry motion as he settled into the bickering in the background.</p><p>As much as his friends were a pain in the neck, Dream would give his life for them. They’ve all been together since they were very small - growing up together being the highlight of their lives - still sticking together to this very day. </p><p>
  <em>As clingy as can be.</em>
</p><p>George was the first to come around; tiny and clumsy on his feet, tripping over thin air and swinging at ghosts. You wouldn't believe it now, but George used to be extremely soft - a big pushover. He would let people walk all over him; use him as a stepping stool just to kick him against the cupboards - turns out the bullied can quickly become the bully - and it hadn't taken long for George to find his feet and start punching a couple ignorant noses. It took days for them to end up a duo, attached at the hip, and as much as the smaller would complain about Dreams possessive and clingy attributes, he had never once pushed him away. Dreams favorite moments with George would always be when they snuck off in the park, their parents' attention thoroughly enclosed on only each other, the two running on tiny legs to get to the pond in time to watch the ducks swim. Sometimes they'd even sneak bits of bread in the tiny pockets of their trousers, pulling them apart until they were nothing but crumbs and throwing them at the water. The eruption of giggles would always drag their parents' attention again, constantly getting them caught, but it was too funny; the way the birds pushed and shoved and "QUACK"ed for salvaging pieces brought genuine tears to their eyes, and they couldn't stop the laughter even after retaining a team punishment by both elder parties. It never stopped them though - they would continue to run off, feed the ducks, giggle and cry until they couldn't breathe - no punishment they had ever been given ever changed that, and they still did it to this day.</p><p>Then, Quackity moved into town. Ironically enough he’d moved in right next door. He was loud and disruptive - the consistent noise complaints and amount of police reports that had been made just because of one small child was genuinely quite impressive - but Dream liked his loud screams, his erupting laughter, his boisterous complaining. Dream didn't like quiet, and Quackity made sure to supply the sounds he longed for when George wasn’t around. Their parents had become friends first, quickly introducing the two and pushing them into the back garden to play on the tiny swing set they had accumulated - it was small and rusty, but no one seemed to complain - their personalities immediately clashing. At first glance, their interactions could be mistaken for bullying, but after getting a closer look it was much clearer that the boys were only playing; insults and fights and tumbles and smacks, and yet they had always managed to make it fun and light-hearted. Dream could recall one specific moment, when he had just turned twelve, and Quackity was complaining about his birthday arriving too slowly for his liking - the eleven year old really just wanted to match with Dream again - and tho he still acted six, Dream found it to be extremely entertaining. After a lot of teasing, pushing and shoving, Dream had gotten so hyped up that he hadn't remembered the height he towered over his friend with - forgotten his own strength - and he'd pushed him too far, and he fell, tumbled down the slope, hit a tree, his ankle twisting at an odd angle - and Dream had cried, suffocated, pleaded, promised over and over that he'd never do it again; he would never lay another hand on his friend, ever, for as long as he lived. Luckily for the both of them, it was just a slight sprain. Quackity had laughed in the end, thanking his friend for his new - free - bunk off school, hugging his friend close and promising him that it was okay; it was a silly accident, that they would continue to fight and hit and rough-house until the day they died. It was the cog in their friendship, and that cog would never stop turning. </p><p>From then on, they had been a trio. Granted, they were the weird trio nobody liked, but they made do. Quackity was soft, and Dream was a wet-wipe, and it was George that had fought back; taken the bullet and thrown it back - "Don't like us, don't look at us. If you do, I'll make sure to break your nose next time." - and he did, and the bigger guy cried and weeped like a baby, and George was suspended until the week after. Ever since then, both Dream and Quackity had relied on their smaller friend to fight for all of them equally. Dream, being the people-pleaser he was, fully-well admitted to being a wimp, tho Quackity could only shrug it off and say he was simply "Just letting George take the dance floor.”. Of course, it only earned him a harsh smack across the back of the head, but it was still funny - even George laughed.</p><p>And here they were now: arms linked, the most popular guys in school, playing banter and swinging at each other whenever the other said something stupid. It was the best, and Dream wouldn't take anything else. Lots of times he wondered if he had gotten lucky, or if it was completely normal - he liked to think he was lucky, and deep down, he knew it was true - still, the question never stopped, but no one ever answered it.</p><p>Without the two pinheads he had today, he was certain he'd be in the back of an empty library somewhere else. </p><p>"Dream?"</p><p>He looked, catching his friends worried expressions before grinning again. He grabbed both of their hands, swinging them back and forth in a playful attempt to pull them around. Quackity joined in, ragging as hard as he could and sliding across the silky floors with the soft surface of his shoes. George only huffed, trying his best to hide the faint smile and the tiny breath of a laugh as he looked back into the distance. </p><p>As they walked, shoving through the different crowds that gathered in the middle of the hallway, they found themselves in the hall, somewhere they had each been once for orientation, just to never find themselves in again. It was different this time; colorful party streamers hanging from the roof, balloons tied to the railings, empty bin bangs scattered across the floor - it looked like an after party.</p><p>“Q!" It was a faint voice that came out of nowhere, one that led across the room; an excited arm waved swiftly in the air.</p><p>A boy, with the brightest expression on his face, covered head-to-toe in colorful attire, waved his arm frantically as he stood on the tip of his toes as to stand out above the crowd. Maybe they would’ve missed him if it weren’t for the interesting color combinations he acquired.</p><p>In a sudden moment of visible realization, Quackity jumped in his spot, grin stretching so far his cheeks made dimples. "Karl!"</p><p>Dreams hand was left bare, and Quackity was already sprinting to the other end of the hall. He watched as the two bashed into each other, almost tumbling to the floor at the impact of their bodies colliding, and Dream couldn't help but feel confused. He looked to George for any signs of knowing, only entertaining a shrug before they both made their way over, following slowly in their friends footsteps.</p><p>Even with the new presence of both boys, Quackity and <em>‘Karl</em>’ hadn't seemed to notice them at all. So, they stood in the awkward silence, watching and waiting in a boring hush of wind. George unlinked their hands, pulling out his phone and amusing himself with whatever he usually would, whilst Dream could only whistle quietly and avert his eyes. Any distraction was a good one.</p><p>"Guys," Quackity clicked his fingers, catching his dim-witted friends attention again. "This is Karl - I told you I had a super cool friend that wasn’t you guys!”</p><p>George looked up slightly. "That's not what you said-"</p><p>"Shut up, George! No one asked!" He pointed his finger, causing George to scowl and look back down, thumbs tapping rapidly on the smooth surface of his screen.</p><p>"Aayyy, Karl! You must be the infamous Dream I'm always hearing about." Karl smirked, throwing a side-eye to Quackity's embarrassed eye roll.</p><p>"'Infamous?'" Dream grinned in amusement, outstretching an arm. "I mean, I am the best thing that ever happened to him, but I wouldn't call myself '<em>infamous</em>'."</p><p>Karl laughed, taking Dreams hand quickly and snapping his fingers as he pulled his own back. He glanced to George, holding out a distant hand and smiling kindly. "George, I assume."</p><p>George looked up once again, inspecting the hand warily before slowly accepting. "You assumed right.” He put his phone away, gently finishing the handshake and reclining his posture slightly as the other stepped away again.</p><p>Quackity stepped forward, punching Karls shoulder teasingly and slinging his arm around the tallers neck. "What are you doing here? Don't you have band practice? You know Sap won't stand for a messy schedule."</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Sap?</em> </strong>
</p><p>"Shut up, dude! It's not a 'band'!" Karl pushed back, a retorting grin on his face. "And I just needed to grab some drinks," He flipped a red can in the air, catching it with his other hand and doing the same with a black one. "So now, I shall be on my way."</p><p>It was abrupt and loud, <em>"Wait</em>!” Dream hadn't even realized he'd said anything until the room went partially quiet, multiple eyes straining on him and the others that dawdled around him.</p><p>Karl giggled nervously, looking away from the crowd and biting his lip. "Whats up, man?"</p><p>Dream gulped - he would apologise for the embarrassment later - taking a step forward as he twirled the strings of his hoodie around his ring finger.</p><p>"Would you mind if I tagged a long?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm sorry this took so long - uploads are random and sometimes they might take a while. Thank you for the love tho :,] &lt;333</p><p>(Edit: There were so many mistakes in this when I re-read it in the morning, so I apologize if you were one of the unlucky people who read it. :] )</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments make me extremely happy, so I very much encourage them. :]</p></blockquote></div></div>
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